


Ambrose's Adventures in Wonderland

by Tangerine_Catnip



Category: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat/Human Hybrids, Crossdressing, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine_Catnip/pseuds/Tangerine_Catnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes a little trip down the rabbit hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambrose's Adventures in Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> "I guess this is just a thing that exists in the world now, and it happens to have spawned from one of my friends. This is my life now. I am going to read this thing and thoroughly encourage the super gay wrestling Alice in Wonderland parody XD"
> 
> \- What Anna said after I told her what I was working on

Dean awoke to the sound of running water. He started to sit up, but a fork of pain shot like lightning down his spine and convinced him to slump back down instead.

He shifted away from a rock that was digging into his shoulder. Apart from that, the ground was covered with soft grass and not all that unsuited towards making an impromptu bed.

Dean hadn't opened his eyes yet. He had made that mistake one too many times before. Better to wait it out till he was more sure of his surroundings, or until something that meant him harm sought to take advantage.

But the warm sunshine had been beating down on him for hours while he was sleeping, and he was already past uncomfortably hot and heading towards sweltering.

It was thirst that put the final nail in the coffin. His throat was dry to the point where it was painful, and the sound of water nearby certainly wasn't helping.

Dean rolled over onto his front and pushed himself up onto his knees. He opened his eyes to discover the grass he thought he was laying on was actually a bed of yellow flowers.

His clothing was covered in pollen and petals. When he went to brush it off, his fingers met a fabric that was way too soft to be his usual denim trousers. Dean stared down at the blue fabric. As his vision cleared and his eyes focused, he realized he was wearing a light blue taffeta skirt.

After further inspection, the skirt was only the lower half of a complete dress and white apron combo. Dean flexed his right arm, feeling the puffy sleeve straining around his triceps.

"I'm really looking forward to remembering what kind of bet I lost to end up in this," he muttered. Dean had to give whoever had set this up some credit though; it couldn't have been easy finding a dress that would fit a 6'4 dude.

Dean gave his head a shake and stood up. In front of him was a wall of trees, and when he turned he saw that behind him was much the same. The clearing only stretched about a hundred meters across before the sunshine and flowers gave way to dense forest.

As far as places to wake up in after a blackout bender went, it wasn't all that bad (Dean could personally testify to at least ten or fifteen worse ones) but the utter lack of any signs of civilization had the potential to be problematic.

Dean mentally shrugged it off, deciding he would deal with it in due course.

He found the stream that had woken him up and dipped his hand into the water. Several pulls later, he gave up trying to sip it through his fingers, and ducked his head into the water instead.

He resurfaced with a gasp, the last of the fog from his nap chased away as the water that had soaked into his hair poured down onto his shoulders.

Now he was fully awake, Dean was starting to realize he didn't feel very hung over and that his memory had a lot more holes in it than usual.

Not remembering how he had gotten here was one thing, but not remembering when he had started to drink the night before was another. Usually he retained up until his tenth drink before the blackout period, but right now he couldn't even recall witch city he had been in.

Dean padded down his dress and found his smartphone in one of the dainty apron pockets. The screen lit up, but unsurprisingly, this clearing in the middle of the woods didn't have any satellite service. He would just have to try again when he reached civilization and hopefully make it back before the show tonight. If there was a show tonight.

Dean would be lying if he said this was the first time he had to chose between hiking in his underpants or in a dress. Really, both choices were about as shitty, and he had gone with the underpants option last time; so why not mix it up?

"But first, I think this could do with a few alterations," Dean observed. He gathered up the hem of his dress in both hands and found a spot that was about level with his knees. He then dug his fingers into the fabric, pulling in in opposite directions with both hands until the tightly knit threads gave way.

He ripped it about as straight as he could manage, but the material was putting up a fair share of resistance.

"The movies totally lied to me. This isn't easy at all," Dean huffed.

Eventually, he managed to get the swath of fabric off and regained a full range of motion with his legs. Next were the sleeves. They came off at the seams with marginally less effort, since they lacked the second layer of petticoat.

Dean rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms out. He always felt better when he was ready to fight.

"Hell, maybe I'll get lucky and run into a bear on my way back. I could skin it and wear it's pelt like a cape. Then when I come down the ramp, everyone will be like "Ahhhhhh, it's a bear!" then they'll notice its me and be like "No wait, that's actually Dean, look how cool he looks in that bear fur." Then Roman will come out and see how awesome I am and... Uh..."

Dean shook his head, even he was starting to lose track of what he was talking about. He scanned the forest line, trying to decide what direction he should start walking in.

Instinct (or more likely some long-forgotten nugget of information) told him he should probably follow the river, but before he could decide which way he should follow it, he noticed a path leading out of the clearing.

Dean walked over to it and was surprised to find that it was paved with off-white concrete bricks.

"Now why in the chocolate hell would somebody go to the trouble of setting this up in the middle of the woods?" Dean asked himself. He leaned forward a bit, hesitating to put his foot on the path. "Something is definitely up, and if I don't get to the bottom of it, it's going to bug me for ages."

A little voice in the back of Dean's mind, the one that usually warned him against things like diving headfirst out of the ring, and punching guys twice his size in the face, told him that this was probably a bad idea. Still, he hadn't gotten this far by listening to that stupid voice and he didn't see much reason to start now.

So Dean set off along the path, following it deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees got closer and closer together the further Dean walked. The path wound through them like a piece of loose string, making it nearly impossible to tell exactly what direction he was walking in, or where the path might end.

The bend around an old oak tree led to a sudden fork in the road. Dean, who had settled into a light jog after the first few minutes of walking, came to an abrupt halt.

"Shit, now where do I go?"

Both paths seemed to continue on very much like the one he had been on before, each winding away into the forest and out of sight.

Dean rested both hands on his hips, but before he could think any more about it, a chill passed down his spine. Dean had the very clear sense that he was being watched, and cast his eyes around for the culprit.

On a high branch just about above his head, he caught a flash of black. Dean took a step back and craned his neck up. It took him a few seconds to recognize the man who was lying with his shoulders and back pressed up against the tree trunk, and one leg casually dangling off his perch. He knew his friend well, but the usual setting threw him off.

"Roman, what the hell are you doing up a tree?"

The man blinked lazily down at Dean. A pair of cat ears nestled among his long black hair twitched as they tried to find the source of the new sound.

"Whoa, man. Is there like a furry convention in town or something? I mean, I'm not judging if that's what you're into or whatever; but this hardly seems like the time or the place to get your freak on."

Dean stepped closer to get a better look and saw that Roman also had a long black tail to match his ears, and that the tail was swishing rhythmically back and forth, as if this cat had just spotted some particularly tempting prey.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I'm not sure who "Roman" is, but at the moment you have the honor of addressing the Cheshire Cat."

Dean raised both eyebrows. He had no idea what was going on, but it was probably better to just go along with it until the world started making sense again.

Roman (and it sure as hell was him no matter what he said) stretched back against his branch and yawned. It was rather impressive really, seeing such a large man balancing like that. It probably wasn't comfortable.

"Well, whoever you are, how about you tell me which way I need to go?" Dean asked.

"Mmmhm… That depends on where you want to go," Roman replied.

"Ideally, anywhere that's not here."

"Then it doesn't matter which way you walk, since you'll still end up someplace that isn't here."

Dean snorted and shook his head. He couldn't deny that Roman was telling the truth, so he tried another question.

"Where do these two paths lead?"

"Well, a trio of unicorns lives down that way," Roman said, gesturing to the right path. "-And if you follow the other for long enough, you'll reach the king of hearts' domain. Can't say which you should visit; they're all mad."

"Like angry mad, or not right in the head mad?" Dean asked.

"A little of both, but mostly the latter. See, We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad, we're all-"

"Yeah, right. Hey Not-Roman, can you come down here for a sec?" Dean interrupted, gesturing to the empty ground beside him.

Roman's cat ears perked up and he tilted his head to the side. He considered Dean for a long moment while his tail flicked back and forth. Until at last he nodded and said, "Alright..." Then he vanished into thin air. The branch he had been sitting on didn't even quiver from the sudden absence of weight on it.

Before Dean could wonder where he had gone, Roman reappeared in front of him. To Dean's credit, he didn't flinch or stagger backward, he just tilted his head back to match Roman's gaze.

"What do you want?" Roman asked.

"I'm like 90% sure that I'm dreaming or hallucinating right now. So, nothing I do here has any consequences-" Dean began, trailing off when he realized he didn't know how to phrase the last bit. When words failed him, action soon took over. Without giving it a second thought, Dean reached over and grabbed Roman by the front of his padded vest.

Dean crushed their lips together. He hadn't intended to be so forceful, but now he was so close it was impossible to hold back. Roman's short beard tickled his chin and he tasted just like Dean had always imagined.

When Dean realized he had lost track of how long this had been going on, he panicked and stepped back. Roman hissed and wrapped his arms around Dean's chest, pulling him back and digging his surprisingly sharp fingernails (claws?) into Dean's hips.

At some point they ended up on the forest floor, nestled among the fallen leaves with Roman's back against the tree he had been sitting in. Roman's tail had wrapped around Dean's middle and while it was just s little strange, it didn't even come close to ruining this otherwise perfect moment for him.

They sat cuddled together for some time afterwards, witch felt just as good. Roman kept running his hand down Dean's back, sending small chills through him with every pass.

Then Roman started easing Dean out of his lap and the moment drew to a close. Dean swallowed back a whimper that threatened to escape.

Roman stood and stretched his arms up above his head, then rolled his shoulders to work the kinks out of his back.

"Are you entering the king of hearts' tournament today?" Roman asked.

"I might. I haven't been invited, but that's never stopped me before," Dean replied with a shrug.

"You'll see me there."

Roman bent down, kissed Dean on the forehead, and vanished.

Dean stood up and brushed the leaves from his torn skirt. "Eh, easy come, easy go… I suppose it's time to see what other crazy shit this dream has for me."

* * *

 

Dean sat with his legs straddled over the top of the ladder, each of his feet resting on opposing top rungs. Far below him was a huge wooden table that was big enough to comfortably seat twenty. There were small white plates, teacups, saucers and spoons arraigned at each place setting, but instead of chairs, each spot had a fifteen-foot ladder.

As one could imagine, this set up made a monumental task out of passing the sugar; to say nothing about the disastrous results of dropping a crumpet.

Dean didn't especially feel like bringing up either of these points to The New Day, who were sitting on the opposite side of the table from him. (If you counted being perched on ladders sitting at any rate.)

"Okay, I've got one. What kind of sphere has four corners?" Xavier asked, as he leaned over to serve some tea to Francesca II, who occupied the ladder next to him.

Big E and Kofi paused to consider, while Dean chewed a mouthful of scone.

"Is this some kind of physics question? Like how space-time distorts around celestial bodies?" Kofi asked.

Big E snorted and shook his head. "Sphere's can't have corners, that's the very definition of a sphere. I bet there is no answer; this is just the raven and the writing desk all over again."

Xavier put his teapot down in a huff, not seeming to care as it tumbled to the table below and smashed into a shower of porcelain and brown liquid. "Now look, I swear that one had an answer, I've just not thought of it yet."

Dean swallowed and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the three person tag team.

"Hey guys, I hate to interrupt, but I need to meet up with someone later, and I was wondering if you knew the way to wherever the king of hearts holds his tournaments?"

Kofi and Big E gasped, while Xavier snatched up Francesca and made a valiant effort of trying to cover her ears.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't say that so loud. He has spies everywhere, and if word gets back we were talking shit it will be all our heads," Big E hissed. His two team members nodding along emphatically.

"I heard if you say his name three times in a mirror, he'll appear behind you and cut your head off with a rusty spork," Kofi said.

"No, no, no. It's if you collect the eight pages scattered around the forest, he'll find you and grab you with his tentacles," Xavier argued.

"Well, regardless," Big E said, "We prefer to refer to him as "Tight Pants Mc Jack-wagon"; just to be on the safe side."

Dean's instincts prickled at the nickname, but whatever his gut was trying to tell him, it wasn't clear enough to form into a complete idea.

"Alright, how do I go about finding Tight Pants Mc Jack-wagon?" Dean asked.

"We were about to leave for his castle actually. You could come with if you don't know the way," Kofi offered.

"Sure, but If you don't like him, why go to his tournament?

"It's mandatory. Everyone in Wonderland has to attend." Xavier said. Big E nodded sagely and added; "-Or it's off with your head."

* * *

 

Dean's eyes widened as he took in the first truly familiar sight he had seen since the world had stopped making sense.

A square platform with three elastic ropes raised on turnbuckles sat dead center in the castle courtyard. The apron was decorated with hearts, and the turnbuckle posts appeared to be statues of flamingos, but none of that changed the fact it was a perfectly serviceable wrestling ring.

When Dean and The New Day had arrived, the crowd around it was just starting to fill out properly with the multicolored denizens of Wonderland.

A few stood out from the melange of talking animals and eccentric humanoids. Most notably, the Soldiers dressed in uniforms with clubs, diamonds, spades, or hearts decorating their chests. To Dean's eyes though, they were behaving more like security staff; minding the barricades and keeping a path to the ring clear.

Dean started elbowing his way to the front of the crowd, leaving behind The New Day, who didn't seem all that keen on getting closer to the ring.

Just as dean reached the barricade, an anxious whisper passed through the crowd, "The King, it's the King!"

Dean turned and spotted the royal procession approaching. Woman wearing long flowing dresses and men in stiff suits, walked in pairs of twos to the ring. Dukes, Duchesses, Barons, Baronets, lesser and greater lords passed by. All walking in increasing order of importance, until sitting in a topless carriage at the very end, was the king of hearts.

Dean smiled humorlessly as he laid eyes on Seth Rollins. He wasn't surprised that Seth had wormed in and taken control, even in this weird fantasy land.

Seth's long black hair was pulled back under his ruby encrusted crown, and his suit was more pompous than usual; decorated with heart shaped gems along the chest and on the cuffs.

The carriage came to a stop and the coachman jumped down to place a stepladder at the foot of the carriage door. Task completed, he bowed so low that his forehead touched the grass.

Seth stepped down from his carriage, but either he wasn't paying proper attention, or the steps had some kind of fault, because he lost his balance on the second step and landed on his backside in the grass.

The ladies and lords in the royal parade gasped and shared looks of shock and sympathy; while most of the audience around Dean were desperately trying to hold back their laughter. Somewhere near the back of the crowd a lone trombone punctuated the tragedy with a mournful cry of "Wha-wha-wha-whaaaaaaa"

Seth leapt to his feet, his cheeks flushing bright red in his anger. "How dare you!" he shouted, scaring the footman so badly he froze in place like a statue.

"Your majesty, I-"

"Off with his head!"

A few of the soldiers wearing hearts appeared at Seth's shoulders and grabbed the footman under both arms. They dragged him back towards the palace as he tried to plead for mercy, but Seth had already forgotten about him and was heading towards the ring.

Dean gripped the side of the black barricade and was preparing to jump over when a hand closed over his shoulder. Dean turned to see Roman standing behind him. Roman's furry black ears twitched and his lips curled in a grin.

"So, how are you getting on?" Roman asked

"Pretty good, I was just going to get in there and feed Seth his own boots," Dean replied.

Above them, Seth was addressing the audience; Issuing a challenge to the citizens of Wonderland to best him in the ring.

"As much as I would love to see that; are you sure it's a good idea?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Nope."

Roman's ears flattened out along either side of his head and his eyebrows raised. "Well, do try to be careful. I have the sense you're the type that would prefer to have his head connected at the shoulders."

Dean shrugged Roman off and hopped the barricade. From the other side He turned and leaned over it. Meeting Roman's eyes, he said "You could give me a kiss for good luck. It might help."

Roman's tail flicked back and forth, his mouth set in a strait line, stuck between mild annoyance and amusement. He reached over and caught Dean by the bodice of his dress and pulled him into a kiss.

Dean closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Roman had vanished.

Making a mental note to ask Roman to stop doing that; Dean's attention shifted back to the ring. At some point Seth had stripped off his jacket, and he was now fighting bear chested against one of the soldiers who had been part of his parade.

Dean watched the fight for a moment, quickly picking up that something wasn't quite right. The man wrestling with Seth seemed afraid to even touch the king, never mind actually give him a decent punch.

Dean grabbed the bottom rope, rolled into the ring and bounced up onto his feet. The soldier Seth had been fighting took the distraction as his chance to escape and ducked under Seth's arm and out of the ring, leaving the two alone.

Seth's eyes met Dean's, and his brows knitted in confusion. "-And who are you?"

Dean frowned, he was a little disappointed that Seth didn't recognize him. Dean felt as if every universe should have its own Dean Ambrose to give any manifestation of Seth Rollins hell.

Still, now was his chance to make up for lost time.

"Dean Ambrose. If it pleases his royal hindquarters."

Seth glared at Dean and tossed his loose back hair over one shoulder dismissively. "Well then Dean, I suppose you want to play?

"Yup."

It was for a moment like this that Dean had bothered ripping off half the skirt and the sleeves of his dress. He leaned in and charged headlong at Seth. Dean's fist lashed out and hit Seth square on the jaw. The king of hearts went down and Dean landed on top of him, a flurry of punches following the first.

It took Seth till the fifth hit to retaliate, but when he struck back, he struck hard. A vicious uppercut caught Dean in the sternum, winding him and knocking him partially off of Seth. Seth rolled out from under Dean and pulled himself to his feet.

"Guards! Restrain this man!" Seth screamed.

"Aww, what's the matter, Seth? Not so much fun when your opponent fights back?!" Dean spat.

Dean tried to take another run at Seth, but his guards were already swarming the ring. Dean fought them off with everything he had; trading punches and kicks whenever one of the guards got too close or tried to grab him. Every time he knocked one down, two more appeared to take their place.

In the end, it took three guards on each arm and two for each leg to immobilize Dean. Seth glared across the ring at him, a trail of blood slowly leaking from a gash in his bottom lip.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Seth hissed.

Dean tried to shrug, but the guards on each arm made it difficult.

Seth approached the restrained Dean and leaned in so his face was only a few inches away from Dean's. From this close up Dean could look right into Seth dark brown eyes and see them blazing with barely controlled rage.

"This is **my** kingdom. Here, **my** word is law. Did you really think you can just waltz in and make a fool of me in **my** ring?"

Dean pretended to think about it for a moment then replied, "Yes. Yes, I do."

Seth smelled like blood and sweat, and he was so close. Closer then Seth probably realised. Dean bit his lip for half a second, then decided. This was all just a dream anyway, no reason to hold back.

Dean snapped his head up and kissed Seth, putting as much of his weight as into it as he could while being held back.

Seth jerked backwards and tripped, landing on his butt for the second time that afternoon.

Dean licked Seth's blood from his lips. It couldn't have tasted different from anyone else's blood, but knowing it belonged to Seth was enough to make it seem sweet.

Seth took a sharp breath in, but Dean cut him off. "Wait, wait, let me guess. Off with my head?"

A long moment of silence stretched as every member of the audience waited for the king's reaction. With no where else to go, Seth's anger seemed to collapse in on itself; his features dropping into a mask of cold indifference.

"Take him to a holding cell." Seth said. He stood up and brushed off his pants, not even sparing Dean a glance as the guards started to haul him away.

* * *

 

"I know you guys do things a bit differently around here, but this sure doesn't look like a courtroom to me."

Dean cast his gaze around the room again. From the heart motif it was painfully clear he was somewhere inside the king of hearts' castle. There were a few chairs, a fireplace, miscellaneous paintings and huge picture windows with red velvet curtains; but nothing to indicate what exactly the room might have been for. Maybe the designers had simply ran out of ideas and just tossed in random furniture for its own sake.

"As king of this land, I decide how judgement is handed. If I don't think you are worthy of a trial, then you don't get one."

Seth was standing over Dean, a snakelike grin stretching across his lips. Dean would have loved to stand up and wipe the smirk off Seth's face with his fists, but before leaving the dungeon the guards had tied both his wrists and his ankles with rope, rendering him unable to even scratch their precious king.

"Although, I might be persuaded to change my mind. If I believed you displayed an adequate level of remorse."

Dean shook his head and laughed. "-Cut the crap Seth, we both know why I'm here. You can't handle your ego getting stepped on and you're looking for some payback."

Seth scoffed and kneeled to the carpet in front of Dean. He reached down and caught Dean's chin between his pointer finger and thumb.

"You're about half right..." Seth purred, before pressing their lips together. Dean twisted, not because he wanted to get away, but to provide some kind of resistance so Seth would hold him still.

Dean allowed his lips to be parted and met Seth's tongue with his own eagerly. The hand on Dean's chin moved to his shoulder and Seth pulled him roughly to his feet; breaking the kiss when he shoved Dean down onto the sofa.

"I think it's time someone taught you manners…" Seth growled, as he straddled and sat on Dean's hips.

"Yeah, sure. Hey, since I'm a little tied up; why don't you help me out of this stupid dress?" Dean asked, puffing his chest out a bit to display the line of buttons down the front. Seth scowled, but grabbed a fist full of Dean's dress anyway; ripping it open with ease.

Then suddenly Seth stopped, his attention caught on something just out of Dean's view.

"Who the hell let a cat in here?" Seth asked.

Dean shifted to get a better view, and wasn't all that surprised to see his best friend, cat ears and all, sitting in the chair opposite.

"Roman! I was wondering if you would show up," Dean said. Then turning to Seth he added, "Looks like you're going to have to share, pretty-boy."

Seth grit his teeth, but he didn't say anything as Roman came over to join them. Roman ran his fingers through Dean's hair and slipped in behind him, so Dean was sandwiched between him and Seth.

Roman leaned over Dean, locking lips with the pouting king of hearts-

* * *

 

"Come on sleeping beauty. Time to wake up."

Someone was standing over Dean and shaking him. Dean groaned and jerked his shoulder away. When he opened his eyes, he saw Roman standing over him.

"The plane landed fifteen minutes ago, babe. If you stick around here any longer they're going to fly you back to the states."

Dean nodded, forced himself up, got caught on his seatbelt, unbuckled it and tried again. Roman laughed and shook his head, taking a few steps back in the aisle so his friend could get out of his seat.

"You've got to teach me your trick sometime. You were asleep for almost the whole seven hours," Roman said, as he watched Dean take his rolling duffle back down from the overhead compartment.

"No real trick to it. I just got used to sleeping in uncomfortable places," Dean replied with a shrug.

The pair bumped their bags down the aircraft steps and onto the Heathrow tarmac. The flight had been one of the rare chartered jaunts across the Atlantic, hence a smaller plane and the opportunity to sit next to Roman.

"Something wrong? You look a little spaced out," Roman asked.

"Oh yeah. It's nothing, I just had one of those dreams y'know?"

"No, not really. What kind of dream, exactly?"

"The kind where you're aware that it's a dream and that nothing matters. So you do weird shit just for kicks."

"Huh, I don't think I've ever had any of those. I know what you mean, though."

A gaggle of their fellow superstars were standing near the airport entrance, enjoying the London sunshine (such as it was) for a few moments longer before braving the eternal struggle of passport control.

Seth was standing with them, he looked up at Dean and Roman as they passed, and for a brief moment their eyes met.

"So what was your dream about anyway?"

"Now I think about it, I honestly don't remember."


End file.
